


When We're Together

by TheBirbiest



Category: RWBY
Genre: M/M, OzQrow secret santa, Spending the holiday season together, and being disgustingly in love, being soft, did you know that?, just two dudes, they gonna get married one day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28256868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBirbiest/pseuds/TheBirbiest
Summary: When Qrow's holiday plans don't go as expected, he finds himself overcome with guilt. Incapable of overcoming his bitterness toward the curse of misfortune that seems to follow him so readily. Thankfully, Ozpin isn't more resilient between the two. Finds solace in being beside the man that makes his heart soar. Finds solace in sharing the beat of his heart with the man that deserves so much, yet gives himself so little.No matter where they are, as long as they're together, then there could be no greater gift. No better holiday spent than beside the love of his life.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Ozpin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	When We're Together

The original _plan_ was to head home after decorating. Take a little time to be with his lover, to hang the stockings they bought together, line the tree with garland and lights, and (if they were lucky) get to dinner on time. Reservations were in high demand this time of year, and Qrow had been fortunate for once in securing exactly that; knowing full well that the restaurant in question was one of Ozpin’s favorites. 

What _happened,_ however, was blamed _entirely_ on **misfortune;** something that haunted Qrow for most of his life. Something he never _could_ quite shake off, no matter how much he tried. A _curse,_ he called it, and nothing **but** that. 

Qrow Branwen, _priding himself_ on teasing death itself, finds himself on the couch of his boyfriend’s apartment, buried beneath several blankets, and undeniably _sick._

He can hear Oz in the other room, cancelling their reservations, and it does _nothing_ to lighten his mood. Leaves him sour and purses lips into a proper pout. A loud sniff fills the room, and the man can only roll his eyes. Bury his head beneath the warm layers lying on top of him and, preferably, damn himself into an entirely new life.

“Qrow?”

A heavy sigh leaves his lungs. Head lifts out from the blankets once again and red eyes find his counterpart; a smile on his face. 

_Of course he was smiling._

“What?” He asks with perhaps as _little_ emotion as one can muster. This, in turn, sparks a laugh from the other.

“Don’t say it like that. I know you’re upset--”

_“Beyond_ upset.”

“Yes, well,” Another laugh, like nothing Qrow has ever heard before - absolute music to his ears - and the silver haired man bends to offer him a glass. “Hopefully this will ease your spirits a bit.”

A glance is given to the copper colored liquid and a confused blink follows. A single brow lifts as eyes lift.

“...Alcohol?”

“Only the finest.” A gentle nudge of the glass is given. “Consider it _my attempt_ at curing the common cold.”

Qrow snorts. Rolls his eyes, but pulls himself into a sitting position. Takes the glass with a small nod of thanks and is _all too quick_ to take a drink. Sighs heavily, relief layered in the action, and leans back into the couch.

Ozpin watches quietly. Takes _more_ than a bit of delight in watching his partner. Indulging in his presence, in the same space that they share. Reservations or not, if he could simply have this moment, just a little longer, he would be more than happy with the day. With his life as a whole. 

“M’sorry about the plans.”

Pulled free of silent appreciations, he’s reminded of the demons that seem to ravage his partner so violently. Never a single moment gone without the man trying to take blame for this or that. Neither bothered nor deterred by such actions, however, Ozpin can only do what he does best; offer reassurance. 

“There’s no need for an apology, Qrow.” A hand lifts to press against his lover’s cheek; a gentle thumb gliding over cheekbone. “We’re still together, aren’t we?”

A moment of silence passes between them, his partner rendered speechless as he directs crimson orbs to his drink. 

“As long as we’re together,” Ozpin continues, voice lowering to a whisper. “Then I _truly_ couldn’t be happier.”

At _this,_ Qrow squirms. Rolls his shoulders and leans into the hand pressed against him. Can’t help but recognize the skip to his heart. The tangled emotions in his chest that _warm_ with the tender words spoken from a man he loves. A man capable of making him _feel_ important. Feel _wanted._

“...You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

Another laugh. Another skip to his heart.

_Gods._ How did he get _this_ lucky?

“Perhaps,” comes the answer, golden orbs meeting those of red. “But I mean every word.”

And he did. Truly. Every moment spent at Qrow’s side, every laugh shared between the two, every inside joke, every bit of passing silence with bodies strewn over one another, it was all _more_ than he could have ever asked for. Prone to dedicating himself to a life of loneliness, _convinced_ that there was nothing and _no one_ capable of sweeping him off his feet (not when he was so undeserving), the man never searched for a significant other. Never took the time to get to know another on a level as _intimate_ as that with Qrow. 

Upon their first meeting, a rather _funny_ turn of events, he knew he felt _something._ Out on his daily walk, casting eyes upon the river that flowed at the edge of the beautiful town he resided in, he was taken completely by surprise. One minute he was standing, and the next he was tangled in the grass with someone else. With a man _insistent_ on trying to catch the leashed dog now wrapped around their legs.

It was _different_ that day. A change in the air. A sudden **need** to venture outside. To stand quietly in the line at the local cafe. To gaze out into lazy waters for a touch longer than usual. 

“I have never known, nor loved, a man as much as I do you, Qrow.”

Now, here they were. In the present. So interwoven in one another’s lives that it was nearly _impossible_ to imagine his life without the other. To reminiscence on what it once was. To try and reflect on how he felt _so comfortable_ in admitting that his life was complete; never realizing just how much _more_ he still needed. Still _yearned for._ Not until Qrow.

A hand suddenly presses against his own. Warmer than usual, but still recognizable. Still capable of making his _own_ heart skip a bit. 

“I told you,” Qrow leans forward and presses heated lips to softer, _kinder_ lips. “Quit sayin’ squishy stuff like that.”

“Mm. Does it get you _riled up?”_

“It does.”

“A shame. You’re _far_ too sick for such activities. I suppose you’ll simply have to make do with being a bit _flustered.”_

A scoff leaves his partner. Red eyes roll and he pulls away. Moves to make himself comfortable once again. Brings the glass to his lips and feels the burn at the back of his throat.

“I think you and I _both_ know that I can still pound you into the mattress.”

_**“Qrow.”** _

Red decorates Ozpin’s face immediately. The man stands with a light tap to his partner’s arm; whiskey nearly spilling from the glass. A small whine coming from Qrow himself, and a glare aimed at the silver-haired _tease._

The rest of the night proceeds smoothly. Coughs and sniffles are met with small groans and occasional, tender words. Some gentle pats here and there. Quiet affections. Each and every moment spent deterring the _grumpier_ of the two from any self-deprecating thoughts. A night once deemed _ruined_ is now spent no more than two feet apart.

Sick as he was, Qrow had to admit that it was _nice_ being like this. Finding himself engulfed in a life he never thought he’d live. Never believed that there would come a day where he sat on the couch, legs lying comfortably on his partner’s lap, warmed by the fireplace nearby, and eyes glued to a cheesy, romcom, holiday movie. 

Ozpin had long since taken to busying his hands. Worked diligently on his current crocheting project; wine resting in a glass nearby. The man had even taken to making them dinner, despite his partner’s gripes.

Unperturbed as he was that it wasn’t food from the _grand_ five-star restaurant he enjoyed so, he still found himself pleased with the result. A simplistic meal of fish and sides, and yet, somehow, with a bit of coaxing ~~and flirting~~ he managed to get his counterpart to indulge as well. To treat himself to some nutrients and take part in a _healthy_ meal. 

Now, with several drinks in each of their systems and food in their bellies, the night passes along _slower._ Quieter in their newfound happiness. In the silent expressions of passion and _love._ Not a single force in the world strong enough to take this from them. To stop the call of their hearts. The songs that beat so _vibrantly_ for one another.

“Hey.”

It is _Qrow_ that breaks the silence, and _Ozpin_ that does not so much as bat an eye. Keeps eyes trained on the yarn twisting together in hopes of making something _new._ Something capable of being _worn._

“Yes?” He murmurs.

“...I love you.”

_Yes._ There it was. The words need never be spoken. The words capable of coming to life in just a single breath from his partner. Emotions and expressions _consumed_ by it. Never a single moment in passing wondering about its existence.

It is with natural _ease_ that Ozpin replies, _“I know you do.”_

A snort from his counterpart and honeyed orbs lift to find him. To _see him._ Indulge in the tiny smile pulling at the corners of his lips. The eyes that remain trained on the television, but the softened features he adores so.

“That’s my line,” Qrow replies, locking eyes with his lover. “Tell me you love me.”

A gentle nudge of his foot is given, one of the crochet hooks slipping from his hand. A glare is immediately aimed at his counterpart, who, in turn, merely shrugs his shoulders. Toes blanketed foot against his wrist and mouths the words: _You love me._

“Hm.” Ozpin picks up the hook with a small sniff. “Well… _now_ I’m not so certain.”

“Mhm.”

Another nudge and the hook falls to the floor, taking the yarn with it. An exasperated huff leaves the silver-haired man’s lips and he turns to find his partner, but feels lips pressed against his own. Feels hands pressed to his cheeks and can do nothing but lean into it. _Feed_ the desire that is always present around Qrow. Cave to the emotions that beat in his chest. In his very _veins._

“I love you,” is whispered against his lips. Foreheads touch and eyelids fall over golden orbs.

“I love _you,”_ is spoken so tenderly, that it can be nothing else but sincere. Nothing else but a _commitment_ to the man capable of stealing his heart again, and again, _and again._

_This._

_This_ is the piece of himself that he has _always_ longed for.

_This_ is **love.**

Found in the strangest of places, and returned home at last.


End file.
